


for the way across

by doodlegirll



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Bad Things Happen To Cecil, Blind Cecil, Carlos is a Good Boyfriend, Hurt/Comfort, I feel like that is very important information, M/M, Native American Cecil, No seriously what is Abby's last name?!, POCecil, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Why do I always hurt the ones I love?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 13:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6567643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodlegirll/pseuds/doodlegirll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Carlos…scared them off.” Cecil said, still trying to catch his breath. “He was so brave, Abby. I don’t know…what they’d have done if he hadn’t showed up.”<br/>“Stop that, you,” Carlos chided him gently, taking his hand and squeezing it. “I wasn’t brave, I was pissed.”<br/>Cecil managed a small, pained grin. “Still…my hero.” </p><p>or<br/>Cecil is jumped while walking home from work, and Carlos takes him to Abby's for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	for the way across

**Author's Note:**

> I have a huge soft spot for Blind!Cecil, and I have since I first entered into the fandom back in 2013, though canon has all but debunked the idea of Cecil being blind by now a thousand times over. Still, it's a headcanon I hold near and dear to my heart, and I've wanted to write something with blind!Cecil for a while now. (That, and the "Ghost Stories" live show solidified a few more things in canon that I will not elaborate on (spoilers, my loves!), but pertain to Abby and Cecil's relationship.)
> 
> I started this fic back in mid August of last year, and I wrote much of the beginning while driving to and home from Arkansas for the funeral of my grandmother. Almost immediately, I jumped back into my college studies, and haven't been able to write much in the way of fic in a long while, but I finally sat down and pounded the rest of this out, as it's a fic I hope to complete within the next few weeks. :) 
> 
> Also, I took the title from the Disparition song of the same name! :) It doesn't really go with this story, per se, but it is lovely!

Carlos sighed as he repositioned the strap of his laptop on his shoulder for what felt like the millionth time in the last sixteen minutes, while at the same time trying to balance the paper bag of groceries he was carrying in his right arm, very nearly dropping the groceries in the process, and for the millionth time, he wished he hadn’t forgotten his cell phone in his apartment earlier that evening.

Nothing about today had gone exactly according to plan. First, Carlos had awoken to find that all of his groceries had been confiscated by the Sheriff’s Secret Police on the grounds that he had not yet had his mandated slice of Big Rico’s that week, and until that was remedied, he would not be permitted to keep any grocery items in his apartment.

Second, Carlos’s wifi had gone out. His router was located in the downstairs lab area, nestled safely into a corner away from the lab tables and storage cabinets, between his desk and Rochelle’s, where it was unlikely to be tripped over, used as an impromptu doorstop, or have any chemicals spilled onto it. The signal was usually pretty strong, and while the reception did not extend past his small living room area located directly above the lab proper, he was still usually able to use it without complications. However, when he had tried to check his email soon after finding his fridge and cabinets devoid of anything consumable, he had found that the little icon in the lower right hand corner that usually displayed at least four bars of wifi reception had instead a little X through it. When he had tried to connect, an error message had been returned, informing him that no wifi connections were available within the vicinity except Big Rico’s across the street, and his neighbor’s, both of which were titled with characters in arcane languages Carlos did not recognize, and were password protected.

So, of course, Carlos had lugged his laptop downstairs to the lab to see if he had any better luck there, only to find that the router had been taken hostage by a band of rogue scorpions that demanded a ransom of $600 to feed their gluten addictions. When Carlos had refused, and had, in a fit of frustration, threatened to buy a can of Raid from the drugstore, the scorpions had hissed at him, and carried his router out the hole they had cut into the wall before he could make a grab for the technology.

This had forced Carlos to take the day’s work – typing up three lab reports, and submitting them to their funders back east – to the Moonlite All Nite Diner, which offered free wifi with the purchase of six or more cups of coffee. Rochelle and Tess had offered to keep him company (and help him drink the coffee he would need to drink to fill up his punch card in order to obtain wifi access), and he had gratefully accepted. The coffee was watery, but tolerable, and the wifi service was excellent, so Carlos tried not to complain too much as he rushed to finish by the deadline of 4 PM.

He’d made it, with 20 minutes to spare, and they had all shared a piece of invisible pie together in celebration. They’d then headed back to the lab to finish up for the day before departing for Big Rico’s, after which a note from the Secret Police had been delivered to Carlos via a carrier pigeon in a tiny balaclava that informed him that his Big Rico’s debt was absolved, and he was once again allowed to have groceries in his apartment, but that he’d have to replace them all, as the Secret Police had become a bit peckish and had consumed most of his food.

Which had led him here, to the bus stop just outside the Ralph’s, trying to keep his groceries from toppling as he struggled with his laptop bag. He sat the bag of groceries down on the bus stop bench for a moment in order to better arrange the strap to his liking, and rooted around in the side pocket for his iPod to listen to on the walk home.

It was then he heard it. A sharp yelp of pain, followed by hushed voices, coming from the alley to the left of the bus stop. He saw flashlight beams dance across the walls of the buildings, and he heard a harsh command and what sounded like a violent strike against something, followed by another cry of pain.

“Keep him quiet!” Someone hissed. “Shut him up, will you?!”

Carlos could feel the knot of dread forming in his stomach. He quickly stuffed his iPod back into his laptop bag, which he quickly looped over his head to keep it close, and very quietly made his way towards the alley, making sure to keep his steps light. He pressed himself against the wall of the building and listened again for a moment.

There was again the sound of flesh hitting flesh, and another yelp, this time much more muted than before.

“Stay quiet, freak.” The voice hissed. “You think anyone is going to hear you anyway?”

Carlos swallowed thickly as he gathered his courage and very slowly looked around the corner.

There were four men in the small space that housed the shared dumpster for the neighboring buildings. Three of the men Carlos did not recognize; he hadn’t lived in Night Vale for very much longer than a year, but he knew that these men were most definitely not Night Valeans. Two of the men stood in front of the third, who was holding the fourth man up with his arms twisted around the other’s to hold him still, and from what Carlos could see, to keep him standing as the other two men had their way with him. One of them punched the helpless man in the stomach thrice, as the other two goaded him on, as terrible slurs of several classifications were accentuated, making Carlos’s skin crawl.

“Hey, let me have a go.” The other man not holding the fourth said, laughing, and his companion stepped back from the incapacitated man. It was then that Carlos got a clear view of the identity of the fourth man, whom he not only knew, but knew extremely well, and he felt his blood run cold.

It was Cecil.

Fiery hot rage swept through him with such force, it nearly knocked the wind clear out of him. Nearly blinded by fury, he clenched his fists at his sides, his blunt fingernails digging moon-shaped crevices into his palms, and he thought very little of the fact that these men outnumbered him as he stepped out from behind the corner.

“Hey!” He called, his tenor echoing much more loudly than he anticipated in the small space. “Stop it!”

The two men not holding Cecil whirled around to face him, clearly startled, while the third nearly dropped him, Cecil slipping forward, before recovering, and hauling Cecil back into a standing position. From where he stood, Carlos could see the blood running from Cecil’s nose and the side of his mouth, despite the crude gag that had been stuffed roughly between his teeth to keep him quiet. His cane laid on the ground not far from them, near the dumpster, and Carlos could see it had been broken in half, and he could just imagine one of the men yanking it from Cecil’s hand and snapping it over his knee as the others laughed. Cecil couldn’t see without that cane. He would be lost and left to wander, beaten and blind, trying not to stumble and run into things, through the streets of Night Vale after dark, without any sense of where he was going or what stood in his path. It only fueled the deep-seated anger Carlos felt rising dangerously towards bursting further. 

“Let him go!” Carlos spat through his teeth. “Now.”

It occurred to him that he had absolutely nothing with which he could defend himself. His small can of pepper spray had spontaneously turned into a horned toad last month, the Taser his sister had sent with him back at his apartment in his kitchen junk drawer, and while he’d been advised numerous times by several different Night Vale natives that it might be best to consider a gun in order to protect himself from any monsters, feral dogs, or spiderwolves he came up against, Carlos had never been comfortable with the idea of handling a firearm, let alone fire it under any circumstance, and had thus never invested time into getting one. All he had was what was immediately at his disposal, and that, he realized, was his body, and his voice, and little else.

“Oh yeah?” One of the men – the taller one to the left – said cockily. “And what’re you gonna do if we refuse?”

“Call the Sheriff’s Secret Police.” Carlos said without hesitation. “It won’t take much, I assure you, and their response time is immediate and usually non-fatal. But concerning the Voice of their community who is all too happy to pass on any propaganda or messages they may have for the general populous, well…” He glared menacingly, and he was surprised at how deep his voice was becoming; it was beginning to resemble the voice he used to have, when he first arrived in Night Vale. “I’m sure they won’t kill you, but you don’t have to necessarily be in one piece to live, now do you?”

The men were quite for a moment, all of them suddenly rigid and still, their eyes wide as terror began to creep into their composures as they regarded Carlos’s unwavering stance.

“You’re bluffing.” One said finally. “There ain’t no Secret Police.”

“Are you willing to bet on that?” Carlos asked, and he felt his fingernails puncture his skin, but he hardly cared. He could see Cecil struggling to maintain consciousness, his body shaking almost violently in the grip of his captor, his head rolled back as his legs struggled to keep him upright, and Carlos felt another wave of fury wash over him when he saw that the man holding him had a firm grip in one hand on Cecil’s braided hair, bending his head backwards so as to expose his face for abuse. Carlos took another step towards the men. “You aren’t from around here, are you? Judging from your disbelief in the capabilities of the Sheriff’s Secret Police, as well as their existence, I’m willing to bet you aren’t. And let me tell you, Night Vale doesn’t take well to interlopers.” Another step forward.  He growled, “Especially those who wish harm on its Voice.”

 “Shit.” He heard the man holding Cecil up mutter.

“Drop him, Murphy, we gotta get outta here!” Another said.

Instantly, the one holding up Cecil – Murphy – let go of the grip he had on Cecil, and Cecil sagged forward, hitting the ground in a heap with a thud, and a low, agonized moan. The three men fled the scene, rushing past Carlos, who didn’t make any attempt to follow them or even call out any further warnings to their retreating backs. His sole concern was on Cecil, and he rushed forward, sinking to his knees to where he lay, curled into a ball, on the ground, where he’d spit out the gag and was coughing weakly as he took in several concerning wheezy breaths.

“Cecil?” Carlos said gently. He reached out a hand and laid it on his boyfriend’s shoulder, and he hated how Cecil flinched at his touch. “Cecil, it’s me. It’s Carlos.”

Cecil whimpered, turning his head towards the sound of Carlos’s voice, and he slowly opened his eyes, the eyes that, despite their inability to see, saw so much.

“Carlos?” He rasped.

“Hey, honey, it’s me.” Carlos soothed, reaching out to smooth a hand across Cecil’s furrowed brow. He felt Cecil relax, familiar with his touch. “I’m here.”

“A-Are they gone?” Cecil whimpered.

“Yeah, they ran off.” Carlos assured him.

“T-They came out of n-nowhere. I didn’t h-hear them c-coming.” More tears streamed down Cecil’s cheeks, washing away some of the blood still dribbling down his nose and down the side of his mouth. Carlos instinctively cradled Cecil’s face between his hands and inspected the damage.

Now that he was closer, Carlos could see the extent of Cecil’s injuries. His lip was completely split open, and Carlos, judging from the four clear puncture wounds, assumed this was from Cecil biting it, whether from an attempt to stay quiet as they beat him, or out of fear, or both, Carlos did not know. Both eyes were slightly swollen, and Carlos could see Cecil’s brown skin – a few shades lighter than his – beginning to turn dark with bruises. His nose, while still bleeding, was not broken, and as far as he could tell, as his boyfriend spat blood onto the ground, Cecil wasn’t missing any teeth, either, but he knew there was likely much more, possibly much more extensive damage to the parts of Cecil he couldn’t see beneath his now wrinkled, bloodstained, and dirty yellow tunic.

“C’mon, let’s get you out of here.” Carlos said finally.

“M-My cane,” Cecil said softly. “I can’t s-see without my c-cane.”

“I know, honey,” Carlos said as he slowly helped Cecil into a sitting position. His boyfriend hunched over, a new wave of coughing wracking through his body so hard, Carlos was afraid he might vomit. He rubbed his back soothingly. “They…it’s broken, Cec, I’m sorry.”

“Assholes,” Cecil wheezed. He hissed in a breath as Carlos helped him stagger to his feet. He leant against Carlos heavily, and Carlos wrapped Cecil’s arm around his shoulders to help stabilize him. They took a few shaky steps forward, but Cecil gasped in pain and stumbled, nearly taking Carlos down with him. His free hand grasped at his ribcage, and Carlos could hear the difficulty in his breaths.

“I know it, hurts, Cee,” he said. “But let’s get you home.”

“N-No.” Cecil gasped. “Take me to Abby’s. It’s closer, just down the street by two blocks. I don’t…I don’t think I can walk…all the way across town, and we m-missed the last bus.”

“Okay.” Carlos agreed. “Which way is Abby’s?”

“A-Are we facing away from the Moonlight All-Nite or towards it?” Cecil asked, wincing as they slowly began to trudge forward. “I c-can’t tell. I’m a little…disoriented.”

“Away.” Carlos answered. “We’re facing away from the Moonlight, at the bus stop.”

“Go down to the end of the street, and take a left.” Cecil instructed. He coughed and spat more blood onto the concrete. Carlos cringed, and Cecil wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “Then walk a block, make a right, it’s the fourth house down on the right side with the fence. T-There’s markers along the way.”

“Markers?” Carlos asked, readjusting Cecil’s arm across his shoulders and wrapping his own arm a little tighter around Cecil’s waist to help steady him as they stumbled forward. “What do you mean?”

“Markers.” Cecil repeated. “I…I know the way, even without my cane; little bumps and dips in the sidewalk that…will tell me we’re going the right way.”

Carlos didn’t say anything further, just pointed them in the right direction. They made their way through the abandoned streets, slowly, but surely. They had to stop several times to catch their breaths, and Carlos could see the strength draining from his boyfriend, his face growing paler with every step they took.

“Are we going in the right direction?” He asked, glancing around them at the neat rows of suburban houses lining the streets.

Cecil nodded. “Yeah.” He said. “All…almost there.”

A few minutes later, Carlos could see the house Cecil had described ahead. He let out a breath of relief when he saw that there were lights on in the windows. Carlos had only met Abby once, when he’d accompanied Cecil to Janice’s talent show (she had demonstrated her proficiency in stylized freestyle yo-yoing; Carlos was impressed), and while the woman had been nothing but warm and welcoming towards him as Cecil’s new boyfriend, Carlos wasn’t sure how well she’d take to him banging on her door in the late hours of the evening, her brother bleeding and beaten in tow.

“I can see the house, sweetie,” Carlos said. “We’re almost there. A little more, okay?”

They stumbled their way up the sidewalk, Cecil reaching out and touching the picket fence beside them with his right hand, nodding.

“We’re here.” He confirmed.

Carlos led Cecil, still pale and wheezing for breath, up the sidewalk to the front door, which he promptly beat four times with his fist before he noticed the doorbell next to his elbow.

“Abby!” He called. “Steve! It’s Carlos!”

He banged on the door three more times.

“Please, I need help!”

Just as he was raising his arm to pound on the door again, he heard the sound of a deadlock being moved aside, and the door swung open to reveal the form of Abby Carlsberg, Cecil’s sister. She was dressed in pajama bottoms with appeared to be tiny slices of watermelon printed on them, and an overlarge long sleeved t-shirt with “Night Vale PTA” emblazoned on the front, her long black hair pulled hastily into a messy bun.

Abby took one look at Carlos with the form of her brother slumped against him, and immediately ushered them inside.

“What happened?!” She demanded, moving to help Carlos support Cecil, guiding him slowly inside. She shut the door with her foot.

“He was mugged.” Carlos explained. They gently lowered Cecil onto the couch in the living room, Cecil groaning in pain as they did so.

“Was…walking home.” Cecil explained. “From the station.” He winced as he allowed Abby to help him lay down against a few pillows. “There was…three of them. I…didn’t recognize their voices…”

“I didn’t recognize any of them either.” Carlos agreed. “I don’t think they’re from around here.”

“They weren’t. They couldn’t be.” Abby said, her voice cold as a knife. “No one around here would _dare_.” Her dark eyes were blazing as she carefully took stock of her brother’s swollen and bruised face. She brushed a hand through the hair on his forehead.

“Carlos…scared them off.” Cecil said, still trying to catch his breath. “He was so brave, Abby. I don’t know…what they’d have done if he hadn’t showed up.”

“Stop that, you,” Carlos chided him gently, taking his hand and squeezing it. “I wasn’t brave, I was _pissed.”_

Cecil managed a small, pained grin. “Still…my hero.”

Abby shook her head. “I’m going to go wake Steve.” She said. “I may need his help.”

Cecil groaned. “Do you have to?” He asked.

“Hush,” Abby scolded him, a warning in her voice. “Yes, I have to. I’m going to make a salve for those bruises, but I’m going to need his help chanting, since I doubt Carlos knows the healing incantations.” She looked pointedly at the scientist, who shook his head.

“Sorry.” He apologized.

Abby was already striding down the hall. “I’ll be right back.” She promised. “Keep him comfortable, and grab him a glass of water from the kitchen. Try not to get your fingers too close to the cactus on the windowsill; it hasn’t been fed in a couple of days.”

She quickly turned the corner, her footsteps light but hurried, so as to not awaken Janice, Carlos was sure. Carlos smoothed a hand across Cecil’s arm.

“I’m going to grab you some water, okay, honey?” He said quietly. “Just stay here and try not to move.”

Cecil nodded, but said nothing. Carlos quickly made his way towards the general direction he assumed the kitchen was in, finding it easily around the corner, as he suspected. He dropped his laptop bag on the table, and snatched a dry coffee mug from the drying rack next to the sink, filling it nearly to the brim with water from the tap. He also grabbed a washcloth from where it was hanging on the handle of the stove, and quickly made his way back into the living room, where he found Cecil struggling to sit up, hissing in pain as he did so.

“Here, let me help.” Carlos offered, setting the mug of water and cloth down on the coffee table. He helped Cecil into a sitting position, and Cecil squeezed his arm gratefully.

“Here.” Carlos pressed the mug into Cecil’s hand. “Careful, it’s really full.”

“Thank you.” Cecil rasped. He drank some of the water, handing the half empty mug back to Carlos when he was done. Carlos used the remaining water to dab the corner of the rag into, which he then used to begin wiping some of the blood off of Cecil’s face.

Cecil’s hand found his wrist. “Carlos,” He said, quietly.

“Shhh, don’t talk.” Carlos said, continuing to gently wipe blood from Cecil’s mouth.

“Carlos, I—” Cecil’s milky eyes were wide.

“I know.” Carlos cut him off. “I know.”

Cecil smiled, and said nothing more, just squeezed Carlos’s wrist. Carlos felt affection radiate from the simple gesture, and he wondered if Cecil could feel the way his touch made Carlos tingle throughout his entire body.

A few seconds later, Abby came back around the corner, her husband Steve trailing behind her, rubbing his eyes sleepily and yawning. He grinned when he saw Carlos.

“Hiya, Carlos!” He said cheerfully. He looked at his brother-in-law. “Hey, Cecil. Sorry to hear you’ve had a bit of bad night, buddy.”

The man glared. “I am not your buddy, _Steve Carlsberg._ ” Cecil seethed.

“Cecil,” Abby said, warningly.

Cecil huffed. “Hi, Steve.” He grumbled. If it hadn’t been for the bruises that patched across his brown skin, and the blood that stained his clothes, Carlos would have laughed.

Abby turned to look at Carlos.

“It’s possible the healing incantations could cause Cecil some minor discomfort.” She explained. “I’m going to need you to hold his hand. Your presence and your physical touch might help him.”

Carlos nodded. He’d have been willing to do anything Abby asked of him, just so long as he could help Cecil.

“Okay, Cecil, buddy, we need you to sit in a chair so we can set up the bloodstone circle with you inside it. Can you stand?”

“Not your buddy,” Cecil grumbled. “But yes, Steve, I can stand just fine.”

He went to push himself off the couch, only to go white as a sheet and nearly fall back, had Carlos and Steve not reached out and caught him.

“Easy there, Cecil,” Steve said gently as they helped him over to the chair that Abby had set up in the middle of the living room floor. “I think you went a little fast there, buddy.”

Cecil didn’t say anything, just nodded, his breathing labored as allowed Carlos and Steve to help ease him down into the chair, his milky eyes wide and glassy.

Abby proceeded to pull a velvet bag from a drawer on an in-table next to the doorway to the kitchen. From it, she began pulling polished bloodstones, which she placed in a circle around her brother. She pricked her thumb with a needle and dripped three drops onto one of the stones, which began to hum slightly.

“Okay, Carlos. Take his hand and hold on _tight_.” Abby instructed. “The energy might make you feel tempted to let go, but make sure you keep a hold on his hand at all times, okay? Letting go might cause Cecil distress.”

Carlos nodded. “Am I allowed in the circle with him?”

Abby shook her head. “You need to be outside the circle, otherwise the incantation will transfer to you as well, and won’t be as effective. But you can ground Cecil by holding his hand across the circle, which will lessen his chances of passing out during.”

“Okay.” Carlos consented.

Abby turned to her brother, reaching out and brushing his hair away from his face.

“Okay, little brother, are you ready?” She asked gently.

Cecil nodded. “I’m ready.”

Abby stepped back and away from Cecil, and nodded to Carlos. “Alright, you can take his hand now.”

Carlos reached over the bloodstone circle line and grasped Cecil’s hand, weaving their fingers together tightly. Cecil gripped his hand like it was his final lifeline, as hurt and obviously weak as he was, and Carlos squeezed it back in reassurance.

“Alright.” Abby said as she and Steve stood across from one another on either side of Cecil. “Let’s begin.”

She and Steve began to chant in unison, their voices low and deep as it grew in crescendo before falling in a decrescendo in an organized tempo, their arms raised. Carlos began to feel something akin to electricity prickle under the skin of the hand holding Cecil’s, the hair on his arm standing up. The stones around the chair began to hum, faintly, to the rhythm of Steve and Abby’s chanting, and the one that Abby had sprinkled her blood onto began to glow.

As the chanting grew louder, and the bloodstones glowed brighter, Carlos looked at Cecil’s face. His boyfriend’s eyes were closed, tightly, his face contorted as he gripped the edge of the chair with one hand, and Carlos’s hand with the other, so tightly that his knuckles were white. Carlos smoothed his thumb across Cecil’s to try and offer him some sort of comfort, even if minimal.

Abby and Steve’s chanting grew ever louder, and the glowing bloodstones began to levitate slightly around the chair. Part of Carlos was absolutely fascinated by the amazing spectacle occurring around him, and he itched to let go of Cecil’s hand and grab his notebook and camera to record everything he witnessed in front of him for later further analysis, but the better, softer, more romantically inclined part of Carlos told him _absolutely not, you idiot!_ He wasn’t sure what letting go of Cecil’s hand could do, but he wasn’t willing to risk causing him further discomfort, so he held tight, and told the science buzzing around in his head to kindly shut up.

Finally, the chanting around them began to soften, and the bloodstones slowly lowered back onto the floor, and the glowing dissipated. Abby and Steve lowered their arms, and opened their eyes. Almost immediately, Cecil gave a final gasp, going completely limp in the chair.

“Cecil!” Carlos cried as he darted forward over the line of bloodstones to place his hands on his boyfriend’s shoulders, giving him a gentle shake as he checked his pulse.

“It’s okay.” Abby said, coming up behind Carlos to place a hand on her brother’s forehead. “He just passed out. With the extent of his injuries, that’s not surprising.”

“But he’ll be fine, right?” Carlos asked.

Abby nodded. “He just needs to rest, now. Sleep will do him good; it will strengthen and enhance the speed of the healing. He’ll still be sore for a few days, and the bruises won’t fade right away, and that cut lip isn’t going anywhere for a while, but he should be in a lot less pain now than he was when you first brought him here.”

Carlos nodded, unsure of what to say.

Abby gestured over her shoulder. “We have a guest room at the end of the hall. Do you think you can lift him?”

Carlos nodded. “I think so.” He said. He looped an arm underneath Cecil’s legs, and underneath his shoulder blades, and gently hefted him up and into his arms. Cecil was heavy, but not overly so, and Carlos figured he could manage the short distance.

“Good. Follow me. Make sure you don’t bang his head on the wall.”

Abby led him down the hall to a door on the left. She opened the door, and ushered Carlos inside. He gingerly laid the unconscious form of his boyfriend down on the bed while Abby clicked the bedside light on, for Carlos, as he arranged the blankets around Cecil’s body, before taking his hand in his.

“Thank you for bringing him here.” Abby said quietly as she came to stand next to him, looking down at Cecil’s now peaceful face. “I worry about him, going out on his own, sometimes. You just never know what might happen, if tonight is any indication.”

“I didn’t recognize them.” Carlos said. “And to be honest, I didn’t get too terribly of a good look at their faces, so I’m not sure I could point them out if I had to. Should we make a report with the SSP?”

Abby shook her head. “I don’t think so. They already have a record of the incident anyway.” She walked over to the window, and opened it, just a crack. “He used to have a Seeing Eye dog, when he was younger. Her name was Nia. Sweetest black lab you’d ever meet. He got her when he was fourteen, and they were inseparable for thirteen years. But when she died, he was so brokenhearted he swore he’d never have another, despite my insistence that a dog could deter something like this happening. Thugs like that are much less likely to attack someone with a dog, because a dog can bark and alert help. But he won’t hear of it.” She walked back to her brother’s bedside and smoothed a stray lock of black hair from his face. “I wish he would. I’d worry a lot less if he had someone looking out for him like that.”

“I would, too.” Carlos said softly. “I mean, he knows this town like no one else I’ve ever met, but…you’re right. I worry about him, too.”

Abby turned to look at him, her grey eyes blazing with something Carlos couldn’t quite read. “Carlos, I know the two of you haven’t been dating for very long, and I don’t doubt you care about my brother. I’d say that the fact that you brought him all the way here and stayed like this is a testament to that. But he’s still my little brother, and I’m going to tell you, if you aren’t sure what you want out of this relationship, if you aren’t sure this is something you want to pursue long term, please save him the heartache in the end, okay? I…I don’t want to see him get hurt.”

“I’m not planning on leaving, Abby, if that’s what you mean.” Carlos said. He felt that defensive bile begin to rise once more. “This is something that I want, that I’ve wanted for a long time, and I promise you. I’d never hurt Cecil. I’d rather die first.”

Abby regarded him skeptically for another minute. Carlos gazed back at her steadily.

“And what about when your funding runs out for your research here? What then?” She dared finally.

“My funding is practically unlimited,” Carlos bristled, trying to keep the defensiveness he felt rising in the back of his throat from his voice. “I’ve taken a sabbatical to come on this fellowship, and the university we work for is very interested in pursuing research in Night Vale indefinitely, if need be. So that’s not a question.”

 Abby continued to look at him, scrutinizing, for a few more seconds, before she finally looked away with a sigh, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, Carlos.” She said. “I don’t mean to imply that you don’t care. Like I said, I don’t doubt that. I just don’t want Cecil to get hurt.”

“I know, Abby.” Carlos replied. “And I promise, he won’t.”

Abby smiled. “He’s lucky to have you.” She said quietly. “You’re a good guy, Carlos the Scientist.”

Carlos smiled back. He looked back at Cecil. “Is…it okay if I stay here tonight? With him?” He asked.

“Of course.” Abby said. She turned to leave. “The bathroom is right across the hall. I’m probably not going to be sleeping any time soon, so just let me know if you need anything. There are some of Cecil’s spare clothes in the dresser, just in case. If you want to take a shower, there are fresh towels in the hall closet, and if you get hungry, help yourself, okay?”

“Thanks, Abby.”

With a final nod, Abby left the room, closing the door behind her with a click as she did.

Carlos watched her go. He let out a large heave of breath he didn’t know he’d been holding as soon as the door closed, and he turned his attention back to Cecil on the bed. He took off his lab coat and hung it from the back of the chair in the corner, and quietly slipped out of his jeans, folding them neatly and setting them on the chair. In just his t-shirt and boxers, he carefully climbed into the bed next to Cecil. He took his boyfriend’s warm hand in his, and pressed a gentle kiss to his knuckles before he twined their fingers together.

So had his hand in Cecil’s been the last thing Cecil had felt before he’d passed out, so would it be the first thing he felt when he woke the next morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Steve Carlsberg is seriously one of my favorite characters. I do not understand why he is hated so much. I just want to hug him. 
> 
> Also, seriously, what is Abby's last name?! Is it Abby Carlsberg? Abby Palmer? Abby Palmer-Carlsberg? I feel like this is very important information, and it's driving me CRAZY not knowing...


End file.
